


the little things you do together

by MadelaineHeartEyes



Series: Phone Rings, Door Chimes [2]
Category: Company - Sondheim/Furth
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Referenced past abuse, but he loves her and she (kind of) loves him, it's complicated - Freeform, joanne doesn't really deserve him and basically knows that, larry is a sweetheart really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadelaineHeartEyes/pseuds/MadelaineHeartEyes
Summary: Joanne and her third (or is it fourth?) husband.(I'm writing them non-chronologically, but then reordering them to be chronological as I go!)





	1. another hundred people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanne and Larry meet for the first time - he is quite taken.

Lawrence couldn’t help tapping his foot impatiently. He felt he had earned the right to be impatient - the consultation was already twenty-five minutes behind schedule, he noted as he glanced at his watch, and the current client was showing no signs of leaving soon.

Vaguely, he became aware of a harsh whispering from the seats opposite him, in the corner of the room. He looked over, and noticed the source of the whispering almost immediately - a rather formidable looking man with dark hair, greying at the temples. Lawrence’s eyes then fell onto the figure next to him - a rather cold looking woman, hair dark like the man (minus the grey). He was instantly struck by _something_ about her. She was facing forwards, staring resolutely into space, until a particularly hissed phrase made Larry take a sharp inhale in spite of himself.

“You’re a _drunken_ fucking mess, the lawyers will see that.”

The woman went to turn away completely then, but her companion grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. Lawrence could see his knuckles turning white, and almost went to stand up before she wrenched away and folded her arms tightly across her chest. The man seemed to come back to himself suddenly, straightening his expensive-looking jacket and sitting back in his seat. Within a moment, a secretary had appeared at the door.

“Mr and Mrs Andrews, please follow me.”

Without even glancing at each other, the couple got up to leave the room. He himself was called shortly after, but Lawrence could not shake the image of the dark haired woman from his mind.

***

The glass doors slid open as Lawrence stormed through them, and he had half-raised his arm to hail a cab before he noticed the same dark haired woman from the waiting area, leaning back against the side of the building as she smoked. The cigarette was stained with her red lipstick as she held it between two elegant fingers, and he found himself staring - she didn’t seem to notice. He lowered his hand, and though he tried not to make a habit of smoking, found himself reaching into his briefcase for the packet that was crushed in the bottom corner. A sudden rush of courage came over him, and he turned fully to the woman.

“Have you got a light?”

He was pleased when she didn’t scowl, instead placing her cigarette between her lips and reaching into the pocket of her fur coat, withdrawing an expensive-looking silver lighter. Everything about the woman screamed _wealth_ , in a way that Lawrence never did no matter how large his salary was. She held the lighter out to him with a slightly lopsided smile - perhaps a smirk - and he took it with what he hoped was a charming one in response, leaning back against the wall beside her.

As he lit his cigarette, he watched her over it. She was certainly striking, as he had noticed earlier, and quite beautiful in an intimidating sort of way. Her features were sharp, elongated by black eyeliner and red lipstick, and even when she smiled her eyes were cold. Her skin was startlingly pale against her black clothes and dark hair.

In short, he was inexplicably captivated by her, even as he rationalised that she was _married, for Christ’s sake_ (even as a voice reasoned that by the arguing in a lawyer’s office, probably not for long).

“Are you going to stare at me all day?”

She said it without humour, without a smile, simply quirking an eyebrow and looking him right in the eyes. A weaker man would have folded under that look, but Larry straightened his spine and looked right back. This brought a smirk back to her red lips.

“Perhaps. Are you planning to stand here all day?”

She threw her head back slightly at this, releasing a short bark of laughter. He noticed a piece of hair had fallen from her sleek chignon, and found his eyes fixated on the way it fell on her pale neck.

“Perhaps - do you have anything interesting to say?”

Her tone was teasing, but he could see the challenge in her eyes that still hadn’t lost their hardness as she laughed - he was suddenly struck by the fact that he _really_ should not be flirting with is woman.

“Much, I can assure you.”

She smiled again, less teasing this time, and reached into her handbag. She withdrew a small notepad, and scribbled something down before holding it out to him.

“My number. Ring me some time, you can use one of your numerous interesting lines of conversation.”

He frowned.

“Aren’t you married?”

She stiffened slightly, a flash of _something_ flitting across her face, and he regretted saying anything, but she quickly smiled again, though this one reached her eyes even less than before.

“Not for long. I’m sure you noticed my husband making rather a scene in there.”

He pondered for a moment.

“I’m afraid I did. I’m sorry about - well, all of it.”

She looked at him, right in the eyes again, and he wondered how she would reply. He was surprised when she softened slightly.

“Don’t be. I mourned my marriage long ago.”

“In that case, my name is Lawrence Whitman. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled, holding out the hand holding the piece of paper again.

“Joanne. Surname to be confirmed.”

He took the paper, and she smiled wider, then threw the end of her cigarette to the ground, grinding it with the elegant heel of her shoe. She straightened up, hoisting her handbag on her shoulder and began to walk away.

After a few paces, she turned back over her shoulder.

“Do call me - _Larry_.” 

Then she was gone, in a flash of expensive perfume and a click of heels, and he couldn’t help a slightly exasperated laugh.

***

 _Joanne Whitman_ , she thought later on, as she poured a glass of wine. That could work.


	2. late nights, quick bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry and Joanne have their first date

Larry had called the _day after_ Joanne gave him her number. In most men, she would dismiss them as desperate and move on, but something about it struck her as strangely… endearing.

So when he invited her to dinner, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of… something in her chest. Excitement? She was too old, too cynical, and _much_ too divorced to get excited over a date. But the emotion was impossible to pinpoint, so she let it stay that way.

***

She had to hand it to him; Larry was, by all accounts, the perfect date. He complimented her on arrival, pulled out her chair for her, ordered the best wine, and asked just the right amount of questions that it didn’t get annoying but showed he was genuinely interested (or at the very least, good at pretending). She humoured him, for some reason unknown even to herself, despite the fact that she _despised_ small talk. When she was evasive about her family, he even had the good grace to steer the subject away. Now _that_ was something she hadn’t had before - a man perfectly willing to let her dictate the topic of conversation. Marcus had been either blind to her discomfort or simply uncaring, and she could safely assume it was the latter.

She couldn’t stop the nagging though at the back of her mind - how had he never been married? He was evidently her age (maybe a tad younger) yet had never had a single wife. If he asked her to marry him, she would say yes immediately - and not _entirely_ because of his enormous salary. _So what was the catch_?

By the end of the meal, Joanne was still trying to work it out. So that was obviously the reason for taking up his offer of walking her home. Never mind the fact that she was almost tripping over her own feet by the time the wine was finished, or that she didn’t want to say goodbye to his face _quite_ yet.

When they reached the door, she hesitated for only a moment before inviting him inside - for another drink, should he so wish. Still trying to figure out the catch, naturally.

Larry gave it a polite moment of thought before accepting. He even asked if he should take his shoes off - she waved a hand dismissively, muttering something about the housekeeper. Nevertheless, he wiped them thoroughly on the doormat, and hesitated before entering the carpeted living room. Joanne couldn’t help rolling her eyes (for some reason, she made sure her back was turned before she did so), but motioned for him to sit on the sofa while she moved over to the bar.

His eyes widened when he saw the amount of liquor inside, pausing at her offer before asking for a bourbon. She poured two glasses before settling herself beside him - leaving a few feet between them, but shifting so she was facing him. He had left his coat on the stand by the front door, but his jacket was draped over the arm of the sofa. A little over-familiar, but she found she didn’t mind hugely.

They sat it silence for a few minutes (Joanne’s amused, Larry’s uncomfortable), sipping at their drinks, before Larry cleared his throat. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he squirmed almost imperceptibly under her gaze. Still, it took him a moment before he spoke.

“This is a lovely house.”

Joanne almost scoffed, but restrained herself from doing so. _Was that really the best he could come up with_?

“Thank you - it was my second husband’s.”

A look of surprise flashed across Larry’s face, but he quelled it almost immediately.

“Right… I didn’t know you’d been married _twice_.”

“Twice, maybe three times - who’s counting?”

She said it semi-humorously, but neither of them laughed. Larry didn’t speak again.

“Does it bother you?”

It sounded like a challenge - Joanne wasn’t sure if she meant it as one. Her tone had lost the gentle sense of amusement, and her face was stony once more. Larry took a sip, before responding carefully.

“Neither of us have exactly done it right have we? I’ve never married, you’ve been married twice.”

“If we share them out, we’ll be on even standing.”

He laughed then, before placing his glass down on the coffee table. He shifted slightly closer, leaning towards her. He stopped short, and Joanne felt her breath catch in her throat.

“May I kiss you?”

In answer, Joanne placed her own glass down, before turning back to him, uncrossing her arms. He was so close she swore she could feel the warmth coming from his skin.

“Be my guest.”

“Not the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever received…”

“Shut up.”

With that, Joanne launched forwards and captured his lips with her own. He gasped slightly at her forwardness, but countered back. She redoubled her efforts, moving to straddle his lap - if he was surprised, he took it in his stride and didn’t miss a beat.

Her hands moved unconsciously to cup his face, at the same time as one of his began to play with the zipper on the back of her dress - when she realised what she was doing, she pulled back sharply as if burnt. She _wasn’t_ tender - not ever, not even to her husbands. She was cold, demanding, acerbic… Why, _why_ , was this man suddenly making her a stranger to herself? Sentimentality and other emotional bullshit only ever got people hurt-

“Oh God - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

She was startled out of her rumination by the low sound of his voice. Her eyes jumped back to his face, which was growing redder by the second. She almost laughed at his misunderstanding, but cut him off instead.

“No - it wasn’t you. Feel free to continue… that which you were doing.”

He smiled slightly, and leaned back in, but again stopped just short of her lips.

“You tell me to stop. Tell me if I cross a line.”

Joanne’s breath hitched again, and her only answer was to grab the front of his shirt and close the distance left between them.

***

They made it to the bed - eventually.

Larry worshipped her body in a way that she couldn’t remember anyone ever doing. Maybe Rodney, when she was his shiny new girlfriend. Marcus had never been much good even when he had liked her. Larry’s hands were far softer than she had imagined - and _God_ was he good with them… and his mouth… and his whole body, when she thought about it properly. _Christ_ , he seemed to derive much of his own pleasure from chasing hers, and that was something she had _never_ experienced before.

She didn’t even reach for a cigarette when it was over. Larry leaned over to kiss her cheek, before muttering something almost unintelligible.

“Will I see you again?”

“I’m nearly forty and just ‘put out’ on the first date -” that was an understatement if ever she heard one “- unless I misunderstood quite severely and you require payment for that service, I think it’s a given that you’ll see me again.” 

He chuckled under his breath, before dropping another kiss to her jaw.

“On second thoughts, depending on the charge, you may be worth it.”

***

When he left just after midnight, she allowed herself to just simply lay in bed and _feel_ for the first time in years.

***

She never did work out the catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless Larry <3


	3. the simplest of crimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanne thinks her luck is changing. She is wrong.

Joanne hadn’t felt so content in years. To have a man want her, adore her, treat her like something so precious was a novelty that hadn’t worn off yet.

She was certainly to old to be smitten, and she wasn’t even sure she was capable of the sort of affection he felt for her. But it was… nice. To have someone to rely on again.

And that night he had tried so hard, cooking her dinner and buying her a pair of earrings that likely cost more than her car. She was never domestic, preferring to allow the housekeeper to cook rather than risk wasting her time. But he had banished his staff for the night, preparing it all himself, lighting goddamn _candles_ on the table. The wine was expensive, good stuff, and he didn’t even comment when she downed one too many glasses (definitely more than one, not that she’d admit it).

He had kissed her over the table after clearing their plates, then led her to the sofa where they made out like teenagers - it made her feel ridiculous, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him, particularly when he found _that_ spot on her neck.

She couldn’t stop herself rolling her eyes when he pulled back and told her she was too drunk to take to bed. He’d taken her on the sofa in her living room, against the wall in her hallway (she shivered at the memory - _Christ_ , he was strong), and in her bed, and during none of those sessions had she been… sober, precisely. Then she’d finally agreed to go to his house, and she’d have to settle for necking on the sofa. Classy.

She glanced at the clock, noticing it was almost midnight, and made to leave. He wanted to call her a cab, but she insisted on walking (later, she would add it to her list of stupidities - why couldn’t she just take some advice for once). After all, she wasn’t that drunk, it wasn’t far, and Christ knows she needed the October air to cool down a little.

When he kissed her goodbye at the door, she had to take a deep breath to stop her knees shaking.

***

If Joanne had been sober, she would have walked the long route, down the main streets. If she hadn’t been such an idiot, she would have called a cab.

As things were, she cut down an alley. Which should not have been an issue - for Christ’s sake, it was the Upper East Side, not Harlem, she should feel safe in her own neighbourhood.

The man came out of the shadows, blocking her path. Joanne went to skirt round him, not sensing danger. The butt of a gun pressed against her side changed this. Her heart caught in her throat, chest tightening. She couldn’t run in her heels, and she was drunk, and the man had a _gun_.

“Give me your purse.”

_Bastard_ , she thought. It was her favourite, and relatively new. She pulled it off her shoulder slowly, holding it out on the tips of her fingers. His response was to shove her, face-first, against the wall. She felt her head crack against the brick, and a wave of dizziness made her sway. She felt hands trailing down her sides, under her coat, hot breath in her ear, and fought the urge to be sick. The gun pressed into her hip bone.

“I’d do you right now, against this wall, if you weren’t such a bitch.”

Then he was gone, footfalls disappearing into the darkness once more. Joanne let out a shaky sigh.

***

She wasn’t quite sure why she ended up back in front of Larry’s front door, ringing the bell for the second time that night. Her house key was in her skirt pocket, not her purse, so she could have gone home. But something about walking the rest of the journey, then going into a cold, empty house made her shiver.

He opened the door a minute later in a towelling dressing gown, his brow furrowed.

“Did you forget - Jo, Christ, what happened?”

He pulled her inside, locking the door behind her. She stood, frozen in place, even as he placed a hand on her arm gently, the other cupping her face.

“Jo, you’re bleeding, what happened?”

She raised a hand to her aching temple, staring down as her fingers came away red. She wondered absent-mindedly what state her makeup was in.

“Jo, honey, please speak to me.”

She looked up, saw the concern etched in his face.

“I got - I’m not sure - not mugged exactly - he took my purse… he had a gun.”

Larry gasped, and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. He rubbed her back, like you would to a sobbing person, but Joanne’s eyes were dry. She just felt very, very tired.

“You’re shaking, are you cold?”

Joanne shrugged. She was, but her head was still pounding, and she needed a lie down (and some more to drink - she felt far too sober to be dealing with this - but she doubted Larry would allow that).

“Come on.”

He led her up the stairs, into his bedroom, and sat her down on the bed. He patched up the cut pretty quickly, but that didn’t stop her hissing when he cleaned it. He sent her into the bathroom to have a shower with once of his shirts to wear, and for some reason she couldn’t help herself holding it like it was something precious - the domesticity was suffocating and reassuring at the same time.

Joanne expected to cry once she was alone, with the fall of the water to disguise the noise, but her eyes stayed determinedly dry, even as she felt them stinging as she removed her makeup as best she could. When she opened the door, she found he had fluffed up and made the bed for her, and felt that strange conflicting feeling again. She was too tired to debate with herself too much, and slipped between the sheets. He had even put a hot water bottle in there, which she was grateful for - the shower hadn’t removed the chill deep in her chest.

Before long Larry knocked on the door gently, even though she’d left it open. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and she sat up, ignoring the dizziness that rushed over her again.

“I’ve spoken to the police - they don’t think they’ll find the guy, there’s no security footage or anything. I’m sorry, Jo.”

She shook her head, her lips raising in a sad half-smile.

“I don’t care. I just want to forget about it.”

He mirrored her expression, eyes flitting to the plaster on her temple.

“I hope you don’t mind being in my bed, I just thought I’d have to put sort out one of the guest rooms and you probably just want to sleep.”

She kissed him lightly as an answer, but furrowed her brow when he went to leave.

“I’ll leave you to it - shout if you need anything.”

Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, eyes beseeching even as she felt her cheeks redden slightly with embarrassment.

“Please. Stay.”

He didn’t need asking twice, and slipped in, curling around her from behind. They lay in silence, and Joanne focused on the beating of his heart, the warmth of his arm around her waist, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

She felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep on thinking of ideas out of chronological sequence, so sorry for the time jumps. This one is early on in their relationship is you couldn't tell.
> 
> While Barbara Walsh (Broadway 2006) is very much my image of Joanne, I saw the most recent West End production and Ben Lewis' Larry is stuck in my mind, so I feel like my characterisation is a mix of him and Bruce Sabath (Broadway 2006) - but definitely looks wise I imagine Ben Lewis.


	4. marry me a little

The restaurant was, objectively, very nice. The lighting and music were classy yet ambient, the food was delicious despite the artistically small portions, and the waiters were polite yet left them alone.

Nevertheless, Joanne couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness that was settling in her stomach. Larry kept checking his pocket, and couldn’t hold his hands quite steady as he cut up his food. She feared what was to happen, and couldn’t focus as he attempted to make conversation, not even noticing his crestfallen expression at her monosyllabic answers.

She tried desperately to enjoy the meal - in all fairness, she hadn’t wanted to celebrate her birthday (Christ, who wants to celebrate being forty?), but Larry had insisted, taking her out to one of the new upmarket restaurants that one could not escape around their Manhattan townhouse. Well, technically hers - he had moved in there a few months prior, as her property was larger and in a better location (and she flat out refused to live amongst his tasteless decoration).

If her fears were correct, this would rank right up there with the year her father threatened her with a knife when she refused to play with the neighbor’s daughter at her party (the one who pulled her hair and called her names) on the list of worst birthdays.

But as she often was, she was proven right. They had just finished dessert when Larry cleared his throat and Joanne felt her chest tighten.

“Joanne - you are a wonderful woman. I find myself captivated by you every day of our lives together.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him, shaking her head softly before people started to watch.

“Larry - don’t.”

He would not be deterred however, seeming to not hear her. He left his seat, kneeling beside her. Joanne was frozen to her seat. He reached into his pocket, and she swore her heart stopped in that moment. A hush had fallen across the restaurant, and she felt every eye on her as she looked down at him. The ring was just as beautiful as she expected it to be - just her style, which made it all the worse somehow.

“I love you. Will you do me the honor - “

And with that she was up, out of her seat and pushing through the doors before Larry could so much as blink. She heard the gasps.

She leant against the wall outside, reaching into her pocket for her cigarettes, lighting one with shaking hands.

“Jo?”

He had evidently stopped to pay before following her out. She whipped around, staring at him with such intensity she was surprised he didn’t shiver. She didn’t speak, simply keeping him locked in her gaze.

“What did I do?”

She let out an entirely humorless laugh.

“What did you do? How Larry, how could you _possibly_ think I would want that - being made a spectacle of like that? It’s humiliating.”

She was surprised, very surprised, when instead of cowering his face grew angry.

“I was entirely unaware that performing romantic gestures for my partner was so frowned upon! It’s your goddamn birthday and I wanted to do something really special for you - is that a crime? Christ Joanne, why do you make loving you so _fucking_ difficult?”

She flinched slightly, and he knew his words had found their mark. She paused before hissing back at him, regaining her composure.

“We have never discussed this - you have never asked me how I feel about marriage, whether I want this too.”

He had a very ugly look on his face, one that Joanne had never seen before and made her falter.

“You must feel alright about it - you’ve done it twice before.”

Her nostrils flared, the only evidence that she was shocked. He had never, even spoken to her like that - he was kind Larry, warm Larry, reliable Larry. He didn’t call her out on her mistakes, he didn’t make her feel anything less than perfect. She almost felt a rush of shame, but quelled it.

“This is a relationship, Joanne, not a dictatorship. It’s about what we both want.”

“Precisely.”

Joanne threw her cigarette to the pavement, using her heel to grind it more aggressively than was necessary. She turned to walk away, surprised when he followed her.

They walked back to the house silently, two feet apart the whole time.

***

She had stalked into the bathroom, locking the door against him as soon as they got home. Larry waited until she was finished before passing her, still silent.

When he pulled back the covers and settled himself in bed, he noticed her shoulders were shaking from across the bed, facing away from him, and Larry felt his heart constrict. He moved towards her and felt her tense, but wrapped his arm around her waist anyway.

“Jo - I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond.

“I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Joanne turned onto her back, her face wet with tears. Larry was shocked, as much as he tried not to be. She had always been emotionally repressed, and he had to coax any openness carefully - and now it was all pouring out.

“It wasn’t what you said - I’m a big girl, I can cope with that.” She sighed, and Larry absent-mindedly tucked some of her hair behind her ear. This seemed to convince her to continue. “You were right - I’m impossible to care about. I demand proof of your love then push you away when you give it. I’m surprised you haven’t stopped trying.”

“That’s not what I said, Jo. I do love you, maybe more than anyone I’ve ever loved before - and that’s because of _everything_ you are.” He paused, waiting for her to recoil from his declaration, turn in on herself as she always did. When she stayed, looking right at him with those dark, teary eyes, he continued. “I’m sorry I sprung it on you like that - I really thought you’d expect it.”

In all honesty, he didn’t understand. Joanne loved romantic gestures, being treated like a queen. In their relationship, he quickly learned that diamonds placated her better than anything else, even if she was almost as wealthy as him from the settlements from both divorces. So why she was so opposed to a public proposal, he really couldn’t understand. She must have been able to sense this, because she spoke again.

“I hadn’t. I’m sorry, the thought just crept up on me while we ate and when you did it I just… I’m not sure.”

She looked almost lost, and he leant over to press a gentle kiss to her lips. She smiled at this, looping her arms around his neck to kiss him again, pulling him closer for a moment before pulling away with a smirk on her face.

“So, shall we do it then?”

He looked at her in confusion for a moment. “What?”

“Get married.”

Larry’s eyes widened with shock. “You mean it?"

She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. He leant over to the side table, picking up the box he had shoved on there when they returned home.

“Joanne, will you marry me?”

She smiled widely, and in that moment, he didn’t think there was a more beautiful thing on earth. She pulled him back against her lips, whispering against them - “Yes.” 

He kissed her again, passionately, before pulling back to slip the ring onto her finger. She looked down at it, admiring the way it glittered in the light. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

At this, Joanne seemed to lose whatever self restraint she still possessed. She pulled him on top of her and started almost attacking his mouth with hers, moaning a gentle _Oh_ against his lips when he pushed up her slip to lay his hands on her thighs.

Her hands moved frantically to unbutton his night shirt, a task made more difficult when one of his hands moved higher to brush against her breast. When she managed it, she practically tore it from his shoulders before pressing her hands to his chest, feeling the warmth and the hard muscle under her grip.

Larry began to kiss downwards, and she gasped slightly when he sucked on her neck, right on her pulse point. He moved frustratingly slowly, and her head was fuzzy as he played with the waistband of her silk underwear.

She let out a strangled noise when he finally, finally pressed the first kiss between her thighs.

***

Later, Larry played absent-mindedly with her hair as she lay, half-asleep on his chest. He noticed vaguely it had begun the curl, knew she would complain in the morning when she had to straighten it again.

He wished she wouldn’t - he liked the curls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their relationship is so fascinating to me, because there are so many ways it can be read in the show - i have about twelve different ways their proposal alone could have gone in my mind. but i wanted to show here that larry isn't always perfect, but i couldn't bring myself to have him not still be a good guy.
> 
> obviously i am very much still working on my characterisations of these guys and i'm not entirely happy with how this chapter turned out, but i still think i managed to get my point across which is as followed - joanne is a disaster.
> 
> thanks for reading!


	5. do it with a will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry gets into an accident. Joanne reacts badly.

The house was dark as Joanne opened the door, and she instantly furrowed her brow. Larry had said he would be home long before her, but he clearly hadn’t been there. She stepped out of her heels and shrugged off her coat, wondering what he was doing. Having an affair? Perhaps; she definitely deserved it, but he _had_ just proposed to her… Did it count as an affair if you weren’t married yet? She wanted a drink just at the thought.

It took her a moment to notice the answering machine was flashing red with a message, and she swept over and pressed play.

“Joanne Kensington, you are listed as the emergency contact for Lawrence Whitman.”

Even as her heart froze in her chest, she realised that he had never told her that he had done that - she wondered when he had.

“He has been involved in an accident and taken to Lenox Hill Hospital.”

The voice kept speaking, but all she thought was _Oh._

***

Larry sat in the hospital bed, wincing as he turned the pages of his book even through the veil of painkillers. He slowly became aware of raised voices from outside the room, and realised it was Joanne and the nice nurse who had put his drip in.

“I am very sorry Miss Kensington, but as you are not a family member I cannot allow you inside.”

“I am his fiancée, I am his emergency contact for fuck’s sake, LET ME IN.”

The nurse seemed to acquiesce, as a moment later Joanne appeared in the doorway with hellfire in her eyes, even as she stifled a gasp at the sight of him. She stalked to stand beside him, putting her hands on her hips and glaring down at him.

“How could you be so stupid? I always tell you that you drive too fast, I warned you something like this would happen. I nearly crashed myself on the way here, the message made it sound like you were dying and…”

He cut her off, placing a hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry - I’m alright.” He noticed suddenly that her lip was quivering, and she looked unsteady on her feet. “Jo, you’re shaking, sit down.”

She wrenched away and crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

“You could have _died_ , Larry.”

Her voice was shakier this time, laced with less venom, and her shoulders sunk slightly as she spoke. Larry reached over, even as he felt a pain at his ribs and winced, and pulled her gently towards the seat beside the bed.

Joanne allowed herself a moment, placing her head in her hands and taking a deep, shaky breath. Her hands were so unsteady she could barely direct it to take one of Larry’s.

“Jo, I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He knew it must look bad - there was a stitched cut across his temple, and his whole face felt bruised. His arms were covered in abrasions, and that wasn’t even including the broken ribs, punctured lung, and ruptured spleen (which apparently they had to remove, hence the tenderness to his abdomen).

She let out a humourless laugh, but the shaking didn’t stop. He suddenly remembered that she had _driven_ in this state, and was surprised she wasn’t taking up occupancy in the room next door.

“You should have called a cab; how did you get here in one piece?”

Joanne looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Because I possess the ability to drive within the speed limit and with correct lane positioning.”

Larry laughed, even though it hurt.

“Well, I suppose I walked right into that one.”

She smirked, squeezing his hand tightly, and finally looking slightly calmer.

“No, you drove into it.”

He couldn’t help himself chuckling.

***

Of all of her traits, Larry did not expect Joanne to be a hoverer. But in the days after he was allowed to go home, she barely let him out of her sight, checking his bandages almost obsessively. He knew she meant well, but if got to the point where he couldn’t get on with anything, and finally he snapped at her to just leave him alone. He tried not to feel guilty at the flash of hurt in her eyes, but failed, and followed her after a few minutes.

He found her in the kitchen, pouring a glass of scotch - neat, and clearly her second given the lipstick smear.

Larry watched her down half of it in one before coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She jumped so much she almost dropped the glass.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’re just trying to take care of me, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

She turned to look at him, still trapped between him and the counter, and he marvelled that her eyes were dry - not just dry, but cold and hard, the look that he thought he had slowly begun to break through since they first met.

“I’m trying to take care of you because I don’t want you to fucking die, Larry, is that so hard to understand?”

The words were harsh, and Larry almost flinched but stopped himself.

“Joanne, _I am not going to die_. I’m okay.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, before breaking away and finishing her drink. She reached for the bottle again but he stopped her.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

He didn’t expect her to pay any notice, and was not disappointed - she snatched the bottle back and poured herself another glass, this one bigger. She looked him right in the eyes as she took a sip, and he almost marvelled at her ability to drink hard liquor without reacting at all. Practice, he thought bitterly.

“What makes me so angry is that I know, as soon as you can drive again, you won’t change, and every time you go out I’ll be wondering if you’ll come back, or I’ll lose another husband, this time for good.”

Larry tried to make light of the situation.

“Well to be fair, I’m not your husband yet.”

He was silenced by a withering look. The effect of her glares still hadn’t worn off after over a year together. After a moment of hesitation, he moved towards her again, taking her by the upper arms and kissing her forehead gently.

“I’m sorry I scared you, and I’m sorry I snapped. I promise, I swear to you, hand on heart that I will drive more safely. Hey - I just got you, I don’t want to die before I can enjoy my time with you.”

She finally relaxed in his arms slightly, leaning up to kiss him.

“Okay - okay.”

“I love you, Joanne.”

“I know you do.” 

He would just have to be satisfied with that for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joanne cares! Who would've thought.


	6. play, but not too rough

Joanne was never one to back down from a fight. As a matter of fact, she was in the habit of starting one when things got too boring, or she was just in the mood for letting some of her anger out. Larry, attempting to placate her as he always was, usually simply let her shout it out, waited until she’d cooled off before offering her a drink or a meal at her favourite restaurant to diffuse the remaining tension. Realistically, most of these encounters resolved themselves with his head between her legs, Joanne shouting his name for a very different reason.

Today was not one of those days. As was the routine on Saturdays, Joanne had got back from the gym, grabbed herself a drink and begun to complain - about everything, Larry included, and for once he couldn’t simply tune it out or smile through it. He snapped at her, and she smirked, invigorated to for once have a partner that would offer some kind of competition, some kind of retribution for what she was doing. This only served to infuriate him more, and soon they were shouting about all the unspoken things in their relationship that they chose to ignore.

“If you loved me, you’d be here more often, not working the longest hours you possibly could in order to minimise your time with your WIFE.”

The statement was so ridiculous he threw his hands up in frustration, stopping suddenly when he noticed the flash of fear across Joanne’s face as she took a step backwards. It was gone as quickly as it came, but he felt his anger slipping away as concern took over, even as the coldness in her eyes returned.

“Jo, what’s wrong?”

She quirked an eyebrow, crossing her arms defensively across her chest, jaw so tense her teeth must have been aching. He took a tentative step towards her, placing his hands on her upper arms gently.

“I would never hit you - I would never _hurt_ you at all.”

Despite her best efforts, Joanne felt herself softening at his words, even as the voice in her head whispered that _he should hurt her, she deserves it_.

“I - I know.”

Her voice was shakier than she expected, and she dodged the concern in his eyes and opted to look at the floor instead.

Larry placed a gentle hand under her chin to lift it - she could tell the question she wanted to dodge was on the tip of his tongue, so she placed her hands on his shoulders, pulling him towards her and kissing deeply.

***

Later, when they were both sated and Joanne was smoking, Larry sat up and faced her, reaching out a hand to push back her dark hair. She smiled slightly in spite of herself.

“Joanne, don’t bite my head off, but - “

She stopped him immediately, raising a hand.

“No sentence that starts like that has ever ended well.”

Her jaw was tense again, and he considered letting it drop, but decided that he really couldn’t - God, he’d suspected before, and brushed it aside, but now he needed to know.

“Jo, did one of your exes hit you?”

He felt her stiffen, and she took a deep drag before turning her face towards him.

“Number two.”

He expected her to snap at him, avoid the question, but she just stated it matter-of-factly. This didn’t diminish Larry’s shock - he’d always thought Marcus sounded like an arse, but he hadn’t expected that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She placed her cigarette in the ash tray, crossing her arms across her chest as she leant on the headboard.

“It never came up - besides, it was only a few times, and I deserved it more often than not.”

“Deserved it? My God, Jo, no one deserves that!” 

A flash of anger crossed her face, and she got out of the bed, grabbing her robe and tying it quickly.

“Jo - Joanne! What are you doing?"

She spun back to face him, fuming now.

“For Christ’s sake Larry, don’t you understand _anything_? You are just too goddamn _good_ , too good to see that I do not deserve you, I do not deserve your fucking kindness, the way you treat me like I’m something precious! I’ll drive you away just like I have everyone else, and that scares me more than it should because my God, I treat you like shit!”

She stopped suddenly, her chest heaving, and Larry was stunned into silence. In four years of marriage, he had spent all his time trying to prove that he loved her, and all the time, this is how she’d been feeling. He knew this had been building for a while - her temper had been getting shorter (if that was even possible), and he knew she was going to explode at some point. But this? This was not what he had expected.

Slowly, he got out of bed, walking around to stand in front of her. She was looking down - that was rare in itself, she usually stared right into his eyes, as though she was daring him to say something. And just like earlier, he lifted her chin gently.

“Joanne, I love you. Whether you believe it or not, I do. Christ, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She must have been going soft, as she felt tears stinging her eyes all of a sudden. But instead of letting them fall, she took his hand and led him back into bed. Once he laid down, she hesitated only a moment before curling up on his chest.

His arms went around her automatically, rubbing her shoulder carefully.

They stayed like that, and for the first time in a long while, Joanne fell asleep in her husband’s arms.


	7. someone to know you too well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry finally learns about Joanne's family.

Joanne had barely settled on the sofa with a glass of wine when the phone rang. Larry was upstairs in the shower, and if she drank it quickly enough she could refill before he came down to save his nagging about her intake.

She moved towards the receiver in the hallway, frustrated, taking a long sip before picking it up. The voice on the line almost made her drop it.

“Mother?”

***

Larry had just got out of the shower when he heard the sound of shattering glass from downstairs. He called out Joanne’s name, pulling on his dressing gown when he got no response.

He made his way down the staircase before finding her at the bottom, hands clutching onto the side-table so tightly her knuckles were completely white. A splash of wine was slowly spreading across the tiles, full of broken glass, and her eyes were fixed, unseeing, at the wall.

“Jo, honey? Joanne?”

Larry reached out a hand to her shoulder, noticing how rapid her breathing was - his touch seemed to snap her back to reality, and she looked towards him, though her eyes were still dazed.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was… my mother. My aunt has… passed away - died.”

He smiled at her sympathetically, rubbing her arm slightly, even as his mind raced. He didn’t even know that her mother had the number - he thought Joanne had cut all ties with her family when she married Rodney, and that was over twenty years ago.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

She looked him straight in the eye then, speaking with such intensity that Larry almost took a step back.

“No - _no_ \- you don’t understand. She was the one who… protected me - she tried _so hard_. And mother doesn’t want me to go to the funeral.”

And then she broke down. It was like nothing Larry had ever seen from her before - she had shed a few tears in the past, but this was entirely different.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as the tears begun to flow in earnest, making horrible sobbing noises that she attempted to stifle. He side-stepped the dropped glass and pulled her against his chest, keeping her upright as she began to sink.

Only after a minute or so did he notice her breathing was still far too quick, and wondered if she was spiralling into panic. It didn’t seem like her - but he needed to calm her down anyhow.

“Jo, there is no one that you need protecting from anymore. I am here, and I love you.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as she wrenched away from him and stalked up the stairs. Her sobs still echoed in the hallway, and Larry felt a surge of guilt as he heard the bathroom door slam and lock.

He stood frozen for a moment, before heading into the kitchen to get her a drink. It wasn’t a coping mechanism he normally agreed with - in fact, it caused some of their biggest rows when he tried to discourage it - but he’d _never_ seen her in such a state before.

Larry knocked tentatively on the door with his knuckles, feeling his heart constrict as Joanne hastily tried to quieten her crying.

“Joanne, honey, please unlock the door. I’m worried about you.”

Once again, he said the wrong thing. She loathed his concern, and it always made her hackles rise. This was no exception.

“ _Leave me alone_.”

Her voice was choked, and Larry rested his forehead against the door.

***

It must have been close to an hour of listening to her shaky breathing before Larry plucked up the courage to speak again. He knocked lightly once more.

“Jo, _please_ let me in.”

He was surprised to hear the click of the lock as opposed to a sharp retort, and wasted no time in pushing the door open. He found Joanne sitting against the bathtub, staring into space, knees drawn to her chest and fists clenched so tightly at her sides that her nails must have broken the skin of her palms.

“Darling-”

He could only watch, helpless, as the dam broke again. He moved towards her, and she suddenly reached out, gripping him like a lifeline. He knelt on the floor beside her, cupping her face in his hands.

“What do you need?”

Joanne just shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Larry felt hot tears splashing against his skin, and couldn’t help feeling like he was entirely useless as she sobbed against him, simply rubbing circles into her back and hushing gently.

He held her for so long, that by the time she began to calm down his legs were completely numb and his back was twinging. She finally pulled away, and though he didn’t offer the glass he had left on the counter, she reached for it anyway, drinking it down in one. Her makeup was a state, and he could feel how sodden his shoulder was. Despite the mask of indifference being pushed back over her face, she didn’t release his hand from her grip. As he suspected, her palms were marred by tiny red crescent moons, and he raised them to his lips and kissed them gently. When he looked at her again, there was a strange softness to her features that he had _never_ seen before.

“Let’s go to bed.”

She nodded, pushing into a standing position with a slight wince. She must have been feeling the same stiffness.

As she moved to the sink, she seemed to notice his eyes watching her carefully.

“Grab me another drink, will you?”

He wanted to argue, he really did, but couldn’t bring himself to.

“Sure. I’ll be back in a second."

***

Larry found her staring into the mirror, still dressed, her eyes unfocused again - once more, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She downed half of the glass in one, draining the rest a few seconds later - Larry suppressed his frown, and didn’t say anything, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub as she took her makeup off and brushed her teeth. They were silent as they moved into bed.

Joanne curled in on herself, her back to him, and Larry hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed, then turned over, pressing her lips against his almost desperately. One of his hands raised automatically to bury in her hair, and she moaned against his lips slightly before he pulled back.

“Jo, honey, I really don’t think-“

“Please - Larry. I just - I need-“

Larry paused for a moment before nodding, kissing her, laying her on her back. She _never_ said please.

His hands made their way down her body, and for a moment he was lost in the sensation - until he suddenly noticed she was sobbing again. He pulled back as if burned, and Joanne grabbed his wrist to keep him there. But when he shook his head, she reluctantly let him move to lean against the headboard, curling up against his side and letting him wipe away the tears as they fell.

Once she had quietened again, her breathing evening out, he kissed the top of her head and spoke tentatively.

“Jo - you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. But why is she so important to you? I thought you weren’t in contact with your family?”

She pulled back and sat up next to him, nodding slightly, taking one of his hands in both of her own (she was tall, but his height - and especially his hands - still managed to dwarf her) and looking down at it.

“My family was… _toxic_. Cruel, abusive, whatever you want to call it.” Larry went to speak then, to try and offer some comfort, but she cut him off. “No, let me talk or I’ll never say it. I was terrified of my parents, my brothers were awful. My aunt - Margaret - she never knew the extent. But she knew how unhappy I was. And she… she tried to help me. She was kind to me, she tried to protect me from them. And it meant so much to me.” She stopped for a second, took a deep, shaky breath, and closed her eyes momentarily, before launching straight back in. Larry couldn’t help admiring her. “When my father died, I went to the funeral because I felt I had to. But at the wake I got drunk, very drunk, and starting telling people what he was really like. Well, my mother was furious - but I was engaged to Rodney, and I thought it was the time - I never spoke to her again. Until today. I have no idea how she got the number."

Larry was surprised with how readily she was offering all this information - usually he had to probe, push and push, draw it out of her. He raised their intertwined hands to his lips and kissed them, encouraging her to continue.

“I kept talking to Margaret - she never liked my father, had thought her was too cruel for my mother - I suppose they turned out to be quite well matched... but Margaret was Catholic, very strict Catholic, and when I told her I was getting divorced she… said that she c-couldn’t forgive me.”

Joanne’s voice cracked, but she didn’t cry again, just stared at the wall with dry eyes.

“I haven’t spoken to her in nearly twenty years and now I don’t even get to say goodbye.”

Larry raised a hand to her cheek, turning her face towards him and kissing her forehead.

“You are going to that funeral if it is the last thing I do.”

***

By the time Joanne awoke, Larry was already up, which she was immediately thankful for. She felt a wash of embarrassment - she had never, _ever_ lost control of her emotions like that in her life. Not when Rodney left for Chicago, not when she found out about Marcus’ cheating, not when he left her.

So she stayed in bed, stewing in her own humiliation - until Larry appeared in the doorway, looking tentative with concern etched in his face. She rolled her eyes, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t have to look at me like that - I’m _fine_.”

He looked slightly relieved that she wasn’t immediately sobbing again, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Joanne sat up and leant back against the headboard as he took one of her hands.

“It’s not because I’m worried - I mean, obviously I’m concerned, I’ve never seen you get that upset - but there’s something else and-“

She raised an eyebrow again.

“Spit it out, or I’ll be dead too by the time you finish.”

Larry looked slightly affronted by her morbid humor, but didn’t comment on it.

“Right - I called your mother back-“

“You did _what_? Tell me you’re joking.”

He looked away from her burning gaze, and she tore her hand from his.

“Hear me out, Jo.”

She retreated into furious silence, crossing her arms.

“I called your mother and, let’s just say, told her that if you did not receive an invite to the funeral, I would make her life as unpleasant as possible for the foreseeable future. We’re going.”

Despite herself, Joanne felt a laugh escaping.

“You - you threatened my mother?”

Larry smiled at her, looking far smugger than he had the right to.

“Yes - I suppose I did.”

She leant forwards to press a kiss to his lips, muttering a quiet _thank you_ against them. That only intensified the smugness.

***

Larry was unsure what to expect on the day of the funeral. It was to be held at a burial ground upstate, and the wake (which Joanne had firmly told him they would _not_ be attending) at the family home nearby.

As she got ready, he could feel Joanne withdrawing more and more into herself. That he _had_ expected - what he had not planned for was the utter rebuffing of every single gentle word and quiet suggestion. He didn’t comment on her shaking hands as she applied her makeup, but couldn’t help himself moving forwards to button up her dress. Nevertheless, by the time they got to the car they were in complete silence, the state in which they stayed for the whole drive. Larry was unsure if he had ever felt more uncomfortable in his life.

He had worn one of his best suits, whereas, to his surprise, Joanne looked significantly more understated than usual. She wore a simple tailored black dress and coat, and had opted for a neutral lipstick and pearl studs. He couldn’t help thinking she looked bare without the red lips, and hanging (and plentiful) diamonds that usually adorned her ears.

The car park was packed, but when he made a comment on that he got no response - he turned, greeted by the sight of Joanne gripping the door handle so hard her knuckles had turned white, jaw set so harshly he could see the tendons. Once he had parked, Larry leant over and placed a gentle hand on her knee.

“Are you alright?”

She gave only a curt nod in reply, but some of the tension dissipated.

It reappeared tenfold as they walked towards the building, however. They had picked out an elegant white arrangement of flowers, and Joanne’s hands fiddled with the stems as she carried them.

Standing by the door was an unassuming looking man, likely Margaret’s husband, but what drew his eye was the woman beside him - probably around seventy, in a lace black dress, dripping with diamonds. This was clearly Joanne’s mother - they had the same nose, same jawline, and Larry would bet they were within an inch of each other’s height. And despite not seeing each other for over twenty years, they had the same blunt bob; however, her mother’s was a harsh silver, and her eyes a cold blue in contrast to Joanne’s warm brown.

“Mother.”

Her mother looked her up and down, gaze calculating, and Larry suddenly noticed a shift in Joanne’s demeanor. Her eyes were still cold, but she had dropped her head slightly - Joanne _never_ looked down - and her hands were twitching around the flowers. He had never seen her look so downtrodden, and he felt his heart wrench in his chest.

“Do try not to make a scene - if you can manage it. And those flowers…”

Her mother’s words were sharp, and Joanne’s shoulders dropped slightly - Larry placed a gentle hand on his wife’s waist, steering her inside. The place was teeming with people, and he felt Joanne stiffen further beside him. He could sense every single eye on her as they walked to the front in order to place the flowers down - they paled in comparison to the elaborate displays around the coffin, and she seemed almost tentative to let go.

He waited until they were seated to take her hand gently. Her gaze stayed locked ahead, and her hand was limp in his, but when he gave a light squeeze she seemed to relax slightly.

***

Larry was almost convinced they had managed to avoid crisis.

Joanne hadn’t shed a tear during the service, but her posture was so stiff he could tell she was fighting valiantly to keep control of her emotions. He had half-expected her mother to drop a snide comment during her turn at the lectern, but aside from a brief mention that Margaret was a “firm and loyal lover of her family - even those who followed the wrong paths”, there was nothing that made heads turn towards them. It was only as they were making their way out the door that he suddenly realized that Joanne wasn’t beside him anymore - he turned back, and noticed her a few feet behind, her wrist in the grip of a tall man around fifty, dressed impeccably in an expensive suit.

“I cannot believe that you had the nerve to show up here today.”

Joanne’s demeanor was one of fear, even if she was fixing the man with a cold stare - Larry walked over immediately.

“Is there a problem here?”

The man turned to him, and Larry noticed he had the same eyes as Joanne - her brother, most likely.

“Ah, so _you’re_ husband number three.” Both his own and Joanne’s faces flashed with confusion, and the man raised his eyebrow - just like his sister. “Really, you must have realized by now that Manhattan socialites have big tongues - you being the perfect example of course.”

Joanne didn’t even flinch, but Larry couldn’t watch anymore.

“My wife and I are leaving - so if you’ll excuse us.”

His tone was firm, but the man seemed reluctant to let go - Larry placed a hand on Joanne’s shoulder, gently, steering her away. Neither of them looked back.

Joanne made it out the doors and away from the crowd before her hand raised to her wrist - red marks were already blooming on the pale skin, and Larry had to fight the rage burning in his chest. When he took her hand gently, she gripped it like a lifeline.

“Are you okay?”

Her head moved in an almost imperceptible nod, but once they were in the car she lay her head on his shoulder for a minute, retaking his hand.

He drove most of the way back one-handed.

***

Joanne wore full-length sleeves, even to bed, until long after the bruising had faded. By that point, they were well into the blistering New York summer, but Larry didn’t dare comment.


End file.
